All Hail the Underdogs
by KNBSnkLover
Summary: "Do you want to be cured?" I asked him. "No," he answered, his voice quiet. "I do not need to be cured because I am not sick. I don't believe I ever was sick. And neither are you, Takao. And neither is everyone else who is in here." In a society who frowns upon those like himself, Takao finds something, or rather someone worth keeping. MidoTaka, minor Akakuro
1. Rebels & Mutineers

_This is my first_ ever _fanfic swap with thosehetalianships. She (of course) requested MidoTaka, and so here I deliver =) My prompt was snow. It was supposed to be fluff...oops._

 **Warning: This story contains homophobia. Does not reflect my personal opinion in any way but is based off certain ideas and theories I've observed from society  & the world around me. **

* * *

The first time I met him, Mama was heavy with child. She was big and warm and comfy in her rocking chair, but her lap looked so inviting that I tried to climb on.

She grunted real loud and pushed me off and told me to go stand in the corner, but the window definitely looked more interesting so naturally I went and stood there.

It was a day where Mother Earth had decorated all of her children with white sweaters, and boppins of it were falling to the ground. I asked Papa if Mother Earth would miss all of her white flowers, and then Papa sent me out to play in it with my hand-me-down sweater and too big boots.

It was there that I met him. I can remember it like yesterday.

He was all warm scarf and cozy mittens with brand new boots with shiny buckles, so much that I had to laugh at his clothes that seemed to swallow him whole. He demanded to know what was so funny, and when I just stood there and smiled at him, his cheeks got all red like an apple. Only he had green hair, so on second thought he was more of a tomato.

That thought made me laugh harder, and he picked up a snowball and threw it up, way, way up - and it came back down to earth and hit his target perfectly. My face.

We must have looked ridiculous, two round, red-faced bundles of clothes chasing and trying to hit each other with snow. Eventually we flopped down, exhausted, and I got a great idea to make a snow angel. He copied me, and pretty soon we were trying to see who could make the best snow angel.

I don't know how his stayed nice in shape. Mine just looked it what one's blanket looked like in the morning before one made their bed.

We go home without goodbyes, but he was there the next day. _I was wondering when you would show up_ , he told me like he knew he would be right, and I laughed because his voice had cracked. We threw snowballs at each other again, only we had forts this time like pretend soldiers.

I was proud when I knocked over his walls and they fell into his moat. Maybe it was just me, but I thought that he had enough barriers already.

* * *

I learnt that his name was Midorima Shintarou and that he liked basketball a little too much. Basketball seemed like a really cool sport, and I would have loved to try it out sometime, maybe even play a game or two with him. But the only ball my family had ever been able to afford was a snowball and instead of telling him that, I pretended to scoff. "Basketball is dumb."

I regretted it as soon as I said it. I didn't mean it.

He got a wrinkle in his forehead and he scorned at me, and he told me that if I played, I wouldn't think it was dumb. He said I didn't seem like I would respect sportsmanship very much, and I didn't know what sportsmanship was and so I said, "Take your _sportsmanshit_ somewhere else because it sounds even dumber than basketball!"

He got very quiet after that, and I went home that night staring at my shoes the entire way because I was afraid that if I looked up, he'd somehow be there awaiting me with the look in his eyes that I didn't need to see a second time.

* * *

He brought a basketball with him the next time. He was wearing some sort of strange orange tracksuit that made him look like a carrot. The resemblnce was so strong that I couldn't stop laughing.

But he just told me to shut up and that he'd teach me how to play basketball. I didn't stop giggling at him, but the looks he gave me were so serious that I decided just to give it a chance. Even though he beat me to a pulp on our first game, I ended up liking basketball a lot.

We didn't play for long. Fall was leaving us to winter's bitter throes and it got dark early. I didn't want to end up being late and miss supper. Our portions got a little bigger now that my baby sister was in the arms of heaven, bless her soul.

* * *

Shin-Chan and I never stopped meeting up over the years. It was something neither of us spoke about but felt naturally inclined to do so, and if one of us weren't here, we'd either wait until dark or come back the next day. (Also, he could never get me to stop calling him Shin-Chan, so he stopped trying.)

When spring came, it washed over everything with a new layer of green and excitement and chapters beginning. I couldn't help but notice that among the flowery meadows and concealed stars, Shin-Chan's hair was ever so green, green as the tips of grass that whistled at the wind and green as the emeralds that would make King Midas swoon.

I told him none of this as we laid side by side in the green, watching the patches of white float by in the blue. Instead, I rolled over and he had the same idea, and so when we both faced each other we got so close by accident that our noses were touching.

We both turned away as fast as we could and I was sure my face was bright red, and I caught a glimpse of his face too. Not knowing what else to do, I laughed. Long and loud.

He totally looked like a tomato, but then again I had never known that tomatoes could be so pretty. Of course if I told him that out loud, I would look like a tomato too, so I kept it to myself.

* * *

We never talked about the incident again and decided to meet up one night during the summer to watch fireflies.

The grass was wet with dew and he'd wrinkled his nose at the idea of mud, but when I told him it was my birthday and I wanted him to sit down, he did.

I kind of lied; it wasn't my birthday because my birthday had been yesterday. I didn't have a party because Papa and Mama were out of town, but I didn't tell him that.

There were tons and tons of fireflies that night, but every one I caught tasted really, really bitter. I will never forget how many strange looks Shin-Chan gave me that night as I crunched my feelings away.

He brought me a fat roll the next day. "Here," he said, "Eat this instead of fireflies. They're really not good for your stomach..."

As he lectured me about nutrition and health, I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of the roll again and again. It became gone way too soon. He looked at me really weirdly; I didn't tell him that the roll was the first solid food I'd had in a week. Shame was bubbling in my stomach, but I really didn't want to vomit up what I'd just eaten because I didn't know when I'll be eating food like that again.

Turned out, it would be the next day when he brought a picnic basket. "Not that I care," he had said as he carefully evened out the little checkered blanket, "But you cannot survive on carbohydrates alone."

I wasn't sure what a carbohydrate was, and I didn't think that he thought too highly of me as he watched me eat. I left some for him but he said he wasn't hungry at all, so then I took it home with me because I didn't want it to go to waste.

I still didn't know what a carbohydrate was, but one thing that I was pretty sure of was that Shin-Chan was an angel from above. An angel with green eyes and a stern face and something mesmerizing about them. I looked forward to seeing him each day.

I laughed myself silly when I got home because back then I considered those thoughts were super corny. The clarity of them never dawned on me until many mornings later.

* * *

Shin-Chan being ticklish was one of the most important discoveries of my life. We were both feeling the lazy afternoon heat as we laid on our stomachs, him reading, me eating biscuits and bothering the worms.

He asked me to please not bother his study session when a worm had crawled onto one of his pages. He didn't want to pick it up, I could tell, so I picked it up for him and was about to flick it far away when it accidentally dropped onto his stomach. Granted, he was wearing a shirt but I could still he was internally kind of freaked out.

So I grabbed the worm on his stomach and flung it away with all my might, but after I'd done it, I noticed that he'd made a weird noise when my hand touched his stomach. So I poked him there, just to see what he would do, and he yelped like a girl and slapped my hands.

"You're ticklish," I accused.

He frowned at me. "Don't be ridiculous."

I raised my hands in preparation. "Think you can prove me wrong?"

He tried to fight me off, but he couldn't. He was really ticklish, especially around his stomach area. I made that my number one zone of attack, and we laughed and fooled around like two idiots until he discovered that I was ticklish as well. From there, it was all over. I raised my hands in surrender, because he was just too damn good for his own good.

He'd quickly wiped the smile off his face as though he thought he'd done the world an injustice with that smile of his. But on the other hand, it brought a smile to my face.

His glasses lay askew on the grass. We both reached for them at the same time and drew back our hands like we'd just gotten shocked once they made the tiniest bit of contact.

His face was still turned away, but I could tell he was hiding a blush as he quickly fumbled to put his glasses back on.

He went back to his book, and I'd realized a colony of ants had taken my last biscuit. I'd have squished them to little black puddles on another day, but I knew what it was like to be hungry. (After my parents came back, I started eating solid food again. It wasn't as good as the little snacks Shin-Chan brought with him sometimes, but I knew they'd done their best, and that's why it was always delicious no matter what.)

Besides, I saw Shin-Chan smile for the day and that was enough of a blessing for me, so I let the ants have my biscuit. Everyone deserved a little something special once in awhile.

* * *

There was a willow tree looking into the river a couple ways off from our meadow, and one summer I dared Shin-Chan to swing from a vine and land on his feet.

He landed facefirst in the muddy bank. I almost peed myself with laughter.

"Takao."

"What's up?" I turned around, my stomach still heaving.

SPLAT! A ball of mud landed in my hair, splattering my cheek and parts of my clothes.

I stood still in shock, and he did the same as well. Then a smirk formed across my face as I bent down to pick up another pile of mud. "You want to play, Shin-Chan?"

I learned that when it came to arm strength, he had a throw like no other. Mama screamed at me to take a bath when I went home later that evening.

* * *

The first time we kissed, it was underneath the blanket of a summer sky made up of a thousand stars.

I know not how it happened or why it happened; I only knew that it must have been planned by the universe and all its mysteries. We were laying side by side, and it kind of just got to the point where we faced each other. We both were quiet this night, but I knew we both felt that our eyes did so much talking.

I wasn't sure what his were saying, so I leaned closer to get a better look. I think he must have had the same idea, because suddenly our noses were touching. But instead of pulling away, the both of us jumped the cliff this time. Together.

His lips were soft and moist and pink, something I wouldn't have realized by just looking at them. He always had them pursed in a line, and he frowned most of the time, so before I had just thought they were really thin and chapped.

But no, they were soft like that of a flower petal; they held a faint taste of spring and sweet dewdrops. They were the best I've ever had, the only ever I've ever had, and in no universe would I want otherwise.

It lasted less than a minute, but in my mind it lasted so much longer. When we broke apart, he blushed and stuttered that he had to go home.

I smiled at the stars because I knew he'd be back the next day, no matter what he said. The stars all seemed to wink at me.

I couldn't stop smiling that night.

* * *

We kissed six more times. Later on I would ask him which time was most memorable, and he would say probably that time underneath the apple trees, when its blossoms were sticky and tart and falling around us like snow.

I would then laugh because my favorite time would be that one in the snow where we were making snow angels and I turned to him and whispered, "Do you remember the first time we did this?" My voice was hoarse from the cold, but he'd seemed to understand me all the same.

He nodded and then whispered back, "Of course. How could I forget?" His voice had been a deadpan, as if I've said something obvious.

My veins thrummed a bit, but it wasn't from the cold. Rather, they felt quite warm.

After we kissed, he'd taken my hands and rubbed them between his gloves.

"Why don't you dress warmer?" he inquired, frowning over my lack of winter apparel. "I'm always surprised you're not catching a cold."

I didn't know what to say to that. I was gonna get a new scarf, but Mama had needed it more. She'd been staying in bed more and more these days. Papa and I were both growing worrisome. With my baby sister buried deep in the ground, we'd been able to afford more to eat more. But still, things weren't looking so great for Mama.

I guessed I must have took too long to answer, because he turned away and never mentioned it again.

But a week later, he'd given me a pair of gray gloves. "I had too many pairs," he told me, "And these ones were getting too small for my hands anyways."

I slipped them on; they fitted perfectly. It wasn't until later that I found out that gloves don't get smaller.

(Instead, people's hearts get bigger. But you didn't hear that from me.)

* * *

When they dumped Mama's body into the ground next to my sister's, Papa took most of our savings with him to the store and came back with box of various bottles.

He drank until dawn. Then he passed out.

I wanted to run away to Shin-Chan's house, but at the same time Papa could wake up any moment and need me there beside him. He did eventually wake up after a couple of hours and the first thing he did was throw up, but then he broke down right in front of me.

It was the saddest thing I've ever seen, and I broke down too. We held each other because we were all we had.

(I felt like I had Shin-Chan too, but Papa didn't have anyone else and I felt bad, so I wanted to be there for Papa.)

* * *

We moved into Aunt and Uncle's flat in the city. It was a little crowded, but Papa had sworn to never drink again. We were happy for a little while, and Papa found a new job that paid a little better than his last one.

I was happy, really I was. Uncle gave me a couple lessons from home so that I'd have a better chance of finding a job when I'm older. The only unhappy thing was that I didn't get to see Shin-Chan very often.

But we still met up whenever we could. After all, tradition was tradition.

* * *

It was snowing again when Aunt and Uncle were arrested. City snow was gray and slushy if you tried to play with it. I discovered that hard way.

The sirens wailed so loud that I was torn between covering my hands and trying to hold onto the hands of my aunt and uncle. I ended up picking Aunt and Uncle because I had two ears, but I only have one Aunt and Uncle. They were still taken away by men dressed in lots of thick, dark clothes. Papa said that Aunt and Uncle were being taken away because they had betrayed our government, and now they must take their punishments like adults.

I didn't believe him. He promised me not to ever drink again, but the night Aunt and Uncle were taken, he broke that fragile bond between us.

I didn't wait to see what else he'd break. I ran all the way to Shin-Chan's that night. He let me in through his window after the eighth rock.

After I told him what happened, he didn't look so upset anymore. He just took me to the living room and held me.

* * *

The first time I'd ever witnessed a hailstorm was the morning when Shin-Chan's parents found us huddled under the same blanket on their couch. They woke us up by rattling our bones. It was as if the universe exploded, given all their screaming and bellowing and cursing.

They tore me apart from their son, screamed at him, screamed at me, screamed at the sun that had barely risen. They literally threw me back out into the snow and forbade me from ever going near their son again, or else they were going to call the police.

I walked home, cold and dirty and tired and not expecting anything when I got there. I wasn't disappointed.

Papa had a fit too, but it wasn't nearly as powerful as the supernova of Shin-Chan's parents.

This supernova wasn't just the death of one star. It was the death of a thousand summer nights and a childhood of dreams, all because of one morning.

* * *

I didn't see Shin-Chan again for years. I kept to studying and tidying at home.

Papa would try to hold his drinking, but more often than not he couldn't maintain his self-control. Everything was difficult for him to handle. Slowly he was slipping into a depression. I felt as if I had lost him years ago, got him back, then began losing him again in an never-ending battle. We were both exhausted beyond belief.

He told me that I should believe in our government, that as long as I fulfill my duty and stay loyal, I should be able to find a decent job and live a decent life.

I didn't believe him. The government was constantly naming off things that would be a danger to our society, and _homosexuals_ were always on the list. Apparently, the definition of a good citizen was one that always turned in criminals to the police.

Even though I felt as if I've done something wrong to the world, I didn't feel like a criminal. All I knew was that everything sucked and nothing was okay, so I hid my sorrows behind the fragile calamity of a smile.

At the time, I didn't realize the implications of what I felt. I just knew that I missed him, but I'd convinced myself that grinning would make it hurt less.

I have always loved laughter, but during that period I laughed little and mostly kept to myself.

* * *

I met Shin-Chan again years later, at the school Papa had saved up to send me to.

I've grown taller myself, but not nearly as much as he did. His shoulders had also broadened and his hair was a little longer than the last time I saw him. He also became fond of this canned bean soup that he would often purchase from the various vending machines scattered around town.

He and I began walking to and from school together. He always seemed a little on edge, though. It took forever for his parents to let that time with me go, and apparently they detested every fiber of my being for having put their son through the danger of exposure.

One afternoon while we were walking home, I asked him if he shared the same sentiments.

"Idiot," he replied, pushing up his spectacles with his newly taped fingers, "If I hated you, would I still tolerate your company?"

Well, some things I had to make sure of. I laughed at my own expense (and also because Shin-Chan had tripped over a root and it'd slightly agitated his usual stoic composure).

There's many unsettling things in the world, but it does make things a little easier knowing that Shin-Chan never hated me at all.

* * *

"Shin-Chan." I whispered to him, one night as the crickets were out and the stars were back in their rightful place again.

"Well, what is it, Takao? I don't have all night."

"Do you think I am disgusting?" The words are out so quick that it felt as if I've vomited them.

His eyes grew wide. "Why - why are you asking me this?"

"Just answer the question... _please_. I don't have all night."

He huffed, though I'm not sure if it's for the fact that I used his own resort against him or for other reasons. "No," he said so soft, that I could barely hear it, "I don't think you're disgusting."

"Do your parents know you've started talking to me again?"

He shifted in the grass, uncomfortable. "No. They do not."

"Oh," I said, "I see."

I was careful to not bring up the topic again.

* * *

Shin-Chan and I often walked home alone.

"Hey," I said one evening as the first flake kissed the ground, "It's snowing."

He looked up at the evening sky. "So it is."

I giggled as a thought popped into my head. "Say, Shin-Chan, have you ever thought about hibernating? Because if snow fell on your head, you'd look like a winter carrot. And everybody knows that carrots don't belong with winter snow."

"Takao, you're being ridiculous," he said, clearly irritated at being compared to a carrot, "First of all, hibernation is an adaption known mostly to bears and other small mammals. Secondly..."

He tuned on, but I didn't care that he was yet giving me another lecture. I kind of just wanted an excuse to call him carrot. Serves him right for wearing bright orange all the time.

* * *

It wasn't long before we started seeing each other again, and this time in _that_ way. The times we didn't see each other seemed to just feel mundane and wrong, and I knew he must have felt the same way even if he never admitted it aloud.

If people found out, I don't know what would happen to us.

"Takao," he said to me one afternoon, "We should stop this, before it gets too far."

I stopped in my tracks. The words cut through me like swords, but I just laughed it off. "Getting tired of me already, Shin-Chan?"

His face said he was feeling nothing but pain, and the sensation of guilt flooded me. "You know why I'm asking this, Takao."

"I know why, but what if I hate the reason? I know you hate it, too." I whispered. I felt as if my insides were falling loose. Shin-Chan quickly glanced around, before pulling me into a thicket of trees.

"I'm not asking anymore, Takao. I don't want either of us to risk our lives."

"They're not going to kill us over something like this, Shin-Chan."

"Have you forgotten what happened with my parents?"

That shut me up well. He doesn't really want it to be like this, either. He's asking me if the fruit we reap will be worth the price we pay. And I stood on tiptoes and pressed my answer to his cheek.

He accepted it.

I didn't feel like a monster, and I didn't want to be one.

But I knew they had to be wrong about us because Shin-Chan is the farthest being from a monster as one could possibly get.

So I let this continue on, encouraged this dream that we could make it through this if we stayed together.

Because we stayed together, there was no way Shin-Chan's parents weren't gonna find out eventually.

The first thing they did was tell Shin-Chan they didn't want him to be their son anymore. Then they called the police.

Papa screamed obscenities at me. He said Mama was turning in her grave now because of the way I shamed our family.

We ran for our lives, but we couldn't get far. We were young, idealistic, and we wanted to live. So we put up our hands and let them take us in dark vans to the facility centers where they keep all the sick, the dangerous, the broken people.

They gave us matching uniforms and we had to stick to a strict schedule or go for days without food. Me, I knew it what it was like to be hungry. And so I obeyed, for a little while anyways.

But they couldn't keep me and Shin-Chan apart. I saw his tears the day we got caught, and that was the first time in my life I had ever seen him cry.

So for the first time in my life, I knew what it felt like to be overcome with burning, seething hatred for our society.

* * *

It was the leisurely hour where we could read or go outside if we liked. But the world outside is covered in snow once again and our uniforms are too thin to protect us from the bitter chill. This place was nice and hidden and perhaps a little forbidden because of its broken cameras, but neither of us cared enough.

"I wish you would hate me," I said to him as we sat across from each other on the cold, hard ground of an empty hallway.

He shifted, but was that a glint of amusement in his eye?

"Why would you wish for such a thing?" he asked me, which gave me great reason to scoff. Wasn't it a bit obvious?

"Because you deserve better than being sick," is all I can really think of to say. And then I added, "Because I dragged you into this."

His eyes flashed as he narrowed them at me. "You're wrong, idiot," he countered immediately, "And you couldn't be more wrong. I am not sick, and neither are you. Rather, the society we live in runs on a corrupt government that always pushes a minority into the spotlight to blame so they can retain their current power for good."

I didn't understand most of the things he said, but even I knew that criticizing our government was a no-no. "Shhh! What if someone hears you?"

"They're all idiots, they're too afraid to look truth in the eye and acknowledge it as a formidable opponent. Fate never lies, Takao. It decides the will of us, and some things were meant to happen. It is the way of the gods."

"I didn't know you were so religious, Shin-Chan," I laughed bitterly, because that's all I've ever known how to do.

"Fool. Man proposes, God disposes. Everything is carefully arranged, everything happens for a reason. You and I are part of a bigger plan. Whatever happens to us was always predetermined, and there is nothing we can do to escape the hand of fate."

"So are you saying that if they come at us with machine guns, Shin-Chan, you're just gonna stand there and let them blow you to pieces?"

"I - no, God forbid, no. I will do my best to attempt to stop it, but whatever happens next is not up to me."

"I see. You're always making things sound so complicated."

"Not everything is simple as you want it to be, Takao."

The silence that enveloped us with was overwhelming with its tides of stillness. Shin-Chan and I sat in the silence, just contemplating our lives.

"Do you think it hurts to die, Shin-Chan?" I couldn't stand it anymore. Grinning and bearing it had had its limits. Silence had always been a killer of everything I treasured: my baby sister, Mama, the comforts of home, the heavy breathing and incessant gulping coming from Papa.

I think he isn't going to answer, and that's when his voice piped up. "I don't know, Takao." I could tell it pained him to admit something so vulnerable, for once. "But I think living under a pretense of happiness can be just as painful."

He had me thrown for a loop. "A pretense of happiness?"

"They think they know what's best for us," his fingers twitched as they pushed up his glasses, "They think that we're deformed, ill, and that given the resources we can be cured. They think that we would be happier if we were all like them."

"Would you?" I asked him tactlessly in the smallest voice I had ever used in my life.

He seemed to carefully consider my question before he answered. "No... I don't think I would have been."

His answer sparked an enigmatic ember of warmth in my cold body. "Me either," I hummed in agreement. He threw me a scowl when I leaned against him and rested my head upon his shoulder, but he didn't complain.

The atmosphere was too quiet, the snow gathering at the window corners too gray. I wished I was allowed to sing in this facility. Singing didn't make all my problems go away, but it did make everything seem better, even just for a little while.

 _Run away with me,_ I robbed my throat of whatever moisture there is left, filling the still air with stark, quiet notes.

 _Lost souls and reverie_

 _Running wild and running free_

 _Two kids, you and me_

 _Long live the pioneers_

 _Go forth and have no fear_

"It's an old song my mother used to sing," I explained to Shin-Chan in the best way I could, "It's from a long time ago. She said to never sing it when I'm not at home, but I don't know where home is anymore, Shin-Chan." It may as well be on the ground with him than in a palace of strangers and society.

"I never meant to get you into this mess. I've... been wanting to say this for awhile now, but I just couldn't find the right words. I was selfish, and I didn't want to let go of you again just like that..." I sank my head low, my hands holding onto my knees. Right now, they were the only things to hold myself together.

"Takao." A warm hand ran itself through my hair, the weathered tape callous against parts of my scalp. "Do be quiet. The future isn't as bad as you think, because fate hasn't set anything in stone."

"But once it has, nothing can change it, correct?"

"Technically...yes. But there are always those who tempt fate."

I raised my eyebrows at that. It wasn't very much like Shin-Chan to make an exception, even for himself.

"Fate favors those who know how to play its game," he explained, as if everything he said made perfect sense, "It always consider the offers of those whom ask it for a pardon, or a favor."

"Do you want to be cured?" I asked him. He frowned heavily at that, and pushes his glasses up with his long fingers.

"No," he finally answered, his voice quiet. "I do not need to be cured because I am not sick. I don't believe I ever was sick. And neither are you, Takao. And neither is everyone else who is in here."

"But we're _homosexuals_." The forbidden word comes out of my mouth easily, and I hadn't realized how much acceptance would hurt. Thinking it silently is one thing. Stating it aloud is another.

"And no less human than they are," Shin-Chan added, "My parents always spoke of loving others and yet they practice more hate than anyone. Our society is the same. It's a pity our country is called Utopia." He actually _laughed_ after that, but it was so bitter and so poisonous that something withered inside of me.

I could die slow and painfully, but it became a different deal when I had to witness Shin-Chan going through that.

I stood up slowly. "We need to get out of here," I said, reaching out a hand to Shin-Chan.

It took him a long while, but he finally stood up as well, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. "How will we accomplish that?"

"Because I know where they keep the sedatives and machine guns," I whispered, my mouth half mad with one of my signature grins. Shin-Chan always said they looked shit-eating, and I couldn't agree more with him at this moment. "I've always had good vision, and I caught a glance of a room one night as I was going to the toilet."

"This is madness, Takao."

"When has it not been?"

"We are risking our lives for this."

"We're dead as long as we're here."

He stared at me. I stared at him. Then he sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to regret working so hard to keep myself groomed in here."

I snorted, _because who wouldn't snort at that_ , and then regained my composure to trace my finger down the bulletproof window one last time. "Do you remember the first time we met? It was snowing like this."

"Of course I do." His voice came out hoarse, and for a second I imagined us as children, pelting each other with snow and a hatred that was most insincere.

* * *

We ran away for the second time that evening. But this time, we weren't running for ourselves. This time we were running for what we both believed in.

A can of unopened bean soup from any old vending machine, Shin-Chan's legendary hand, and the thing goes sailing through glass and straight into the heart of some alarm system that comes to life.

The guards panicked, thinking we're being attacked. The inmates in here panicked and struggled, but the smart ones tried using this chance to flee. It was chaos everywhere, chaos like it was the end of the world.

Shin-Chan and I somehow are able to make our way outside; the guards at the gates and doors had all fled to the emergency parole. The snow was heavy and Shin-Chan had me hidden in a concealed spot while he risked a trek to the (most likely deserted) shed to fetch us some emergency supplies.

A hand wrapped itself around my mouth, and I bit down as hard as I could into the hardened flesh. Buff arms struggled to pin me down, and the guard reached for the sedation syringe on his belt.

 _This is the end. He's going to sedate me, and after that he'll bring me back to the wards where they'll poke and prod at me with needles, and send me to the 'special' treatment center to possibly be tortured._

That's when Shin-Chan appeared, loaded with a knapsack and two guns.

I managed enough arm force to swing it into the head of the guard so his arm around my mouth would loosen, however brief.

"SHIN-CHAN!" I screamed. "BEHIND YOU!"

Gunshots rang out, and the spilled blood coated the white ground with a vibrant red.

* * *

 _Chapter 2 will be posted shortly. Please let me know what you think? I always love to hear from you guys :) Btw sorry Generations of Immortality is taking awhile. It's in the works I promise!_

 _I don't owe the song Renegades._


	2. Spielbergs & Kubricks

That night we ran was the last we've heard of _Utopia._

Shin-Chan and I traveled by foot on many, many miles until we reached upon a deserted beach. We'd said _what the hell_ and built a boat. We wanted to run away for good. Even if we never saw land again, the horizon would be ours.

We did stumble upon an island after what seemed like an eternity. The island and its inhabitants were most peculiar; it was owned by a short man with raspberry-colored hair and catlike eyes who thought himself to be an emperor. He didn't have a kingdom though, just a few subjects whom he treated like friends. They lived like kings with the Red Emperor and his tiny blue-haired wife.

He'd allow me and Shin-Chan to stay as long as we didn't disturb the peace and never planned on sailing away again. It was sketchy at first, but the Red Emperor explained that he wanted no other beings to know about the island. _That_ I could understand.

But he also didn't judge us on the way we were, and we ended up appreciating that more than we'd anticipated. (I thought our neighbors were fun, but Shin-Chan always complain they're kind of loud and I have to agree. I think both Shin-Chan and I knew the redhead's monopoly isn't an utopia, but it was far better than our old one. Besides, he was fair enough and none of his friends came around too often to bother us.)

It's been 16 years since our arrival. We don't plan on sailing anywhere again.

He is wrapping his fingers with fresh bandages, the scent of cotton and soap lingering through the air. An open window waffles a delightful sea breeze into the house.

He still keeps them wrapped up, even after all this time, and he always washes his hands before putting them on. It's painful to watch him because I know that even though it's been so many years, he still hasn't been able to scrap the idea of blood from underneath his fingernails.

And not that it matters, but I ask him one night if it hurts him to touch me. He says it's not that, it's that he's afraid of hurting me. He looks me in the eyes when he says it and that pierces me with more anguish than I have ever felt.

He hugs me until morning. By then I am jubilant, exhilarated. We give to each other something bigger than the both of us.

He's always tried to be strong for me, it's no wonder that he would sometimes crumble and fall apart. But that's okay because it's he who has taught me that there is no shame in falling down. True shame lies in not standing up again.

And if there is one thing Midorima Shintarou lives by, it's his word.

"I don't feel a mere ounce of regret for what I did," he tells me one dawn after a nightmare, "I only fear what would have happened if I didn't shot those men. I would do it one thousand times over if that meant you would get to live." His voice is heavy, and I can tell this has been hard for him to say.

"Shin-chan," I say, for it's the only words I can utter at that moment, the only words I've known to never give up on me. He looks at me with such emotion in his eyes that I fall into a complete spell - his spell.

I imagine we are both be haunted by bits and pieces of our past, him more than me. (I will never forget what he has sacrificed for me.) But we've come a long way and have both healed quite a bit, too. Our new friends are strange but kind, and we've enjoyed nothing but serenity since we started calling this place home.

He flexes his fingers as he finishes, and then slips his hand into my waiting one. We walk out the door hand-in-hand into our front yard, made of nothing but silk and sand and sea.

The sun works a wonder of gentle oranges and pinks and melons into the horizon, and I couldn't help but notice Shin-Chan's lashes throw out bits of evening light as he blinks.

I let go of his hands to cup my face in a giggle, and Shin-Chan just shakes his head because he doesn't know what's so funny. But I bet he's secretly amused on the inside.

"You know, Shin-Chan, sometimes I miss the way the snow makes it look as if sugar has fallen from the skies," I say, and Shin-Chan snorts. But all the same, he laces my fingers through his bandaged, complex ones. "But then again, I'm glad it doesn't snow here. We never need to build any sort of fort. Heh, remember when we first met? We were such fools back then."

"Of course," he answers as we watch the morning meld colors into rosy, beautiful things, "But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

I, Midorima Kazunari, would not either.

* * *

 _I did something different this time: tried to focus on the point of view of one character (Takao Kazunari in this case) instead of being plot heavy. Lol I suck so much at fluff ;-;_

 _Akashi's regime isn't utopia, but it's by far better than the homophobic, 1984-esque dystopia they escaped from. Thank you so much for reading!_


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